Chapter 9
The summary trial finally began.
The participants were Marquess Corel, Mrs. Mimosa, and Viscount Puterio.
And then there were the five children who had helped prepare the food, including Sislein and me.
‘So that’s Marquess Corel.’
He was a man with a stout build and an extremely sensitive-looking expression, wearing the white horsehair wig typically worn by judges.
And the moment he arrived, he performed a very peculiar act.
*Hiss— Hiss—*
His secretary was busy spraying something from a perfume bottle all over the chair.
‘The smell of alcohol…!’
Then, the Marquess meticulously polished the chair he was about to sit on with a silk handkerchief until it shone.
Perhaps reading the confused expressions on our faces, Marquess Corel asked for our understanding.
“Excuse me, I am quite sensitive about cleanliness.”
‘As expected, his germaphobia is severe.’
To think he couldn’t even sit on a bare chair. I narrowed my eyes and watched the spectacle.
He was truly a man who had developed a severe case of “germaphobia” alongside his extreme “hypochondria.”
After making a fuss the moment he arrived, the Marquess shook hands with Mrs. Mimosa and then Viscount Puterio in turn.
“Oh my, Marquess… I am terribly sorry to have troubled such a busy and noble person with such a trivial matter!”
“It is quite alright, Viscount.”
Leaving behind a cold, curt reply, the Marquess raised his hand, and his secretary immediately changed his gloves for him.
‘Good heavens. To see such a sight in person.’
The scene must have looked ridiculous even to the children, as they all covered their mouths with their small hands and giggled, “Heehee!”
However, they all flinched and shut their mouths at Mrs. Mimosa’s cold glare.
“These are the children who helped prepare the food for today’s guest reception.”
“I’m Shasha!”
“I’m Julian! I made bread.”
The five children introduced themselves one by one.
The girls lifted their skirts and fluttered them cutely—the traditional greeting of The Forest—while the boys clasped their hands together and met the adults’ eyes.
“I’m Annette.”
Just as I finished the traditional greeting and was about to step back, it happened.
“……!”
Viscount Puterio grabbed my hand and yanked me forward, pulling me helplessly toward him. He whispered, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
“I thought you’d run away, but you actually made it here, you cheeky girl. The greeting was cute enough, but don’t think for a second that I find children adorable.”
The sickening threats continued, directed at a twelve-year-old child.
“I don’t find brats who aren’t profitable cute at all. I especially hate meddlesome girls like you.”
I tried to pull my wrist away, but he only gripped it with brute force.
“……Ugh!”
“Be careful. I’ve heard many children get kidnapped after leaving The Forest. If you keep acting out, you might end up a slave yourself, wouldn’t you agree? Heh heh.”
It was right then.
Sislein shoved the Viscount away forcefully, pulled me into his arms, and held me tight.
The boy’s crimson eyes glared straight at the Viscount, flickering dangerously.
With a cold, expressionless face, Sislein muttered.
“If you touch Annette, I’ll kill you.”
The Viscount flinched at the palpable killing intent.
“……Y-you, you slave!”
I found myself buried in Sislein’s chest, blinking in surprise.
Ah, what a powerhouse of a kid. If Sislein were just twelve years older, I might have actually swooned…
‘He’s scared himself, yet he’s trying to protect me. Our baby is so precious.’
My nose stung with emotion.
“You should be careful, Viscount. As you know, the child is an ‘Awakened’.”
Mrs. Mimosa issued a timely warning.
The Viscount’s face turned beet red, and he looked like he wanted to bark some kind of threat, but he kept his mouth shut, wary of Marquess Corel, who was still making a scene.
He wouldn’t want to get on the Marquess’s bad side, not even a little.
That was only natural; today was the most important day of his life.
Fifty million gold might not be a huge sum to a successful slave trader, but at a moment when he was on the verge of bankruptcy and ruin, it was enough to be a lifeline.
So, he would be as cautious as if he were carrying a raw egg, treating this trial with the utmost care.
He would do his best not to offend the sensitive Marquess.
The Marquess, who had been observing the situation, spoke up as if it were of no consequence.
“Let us proceed quickly. Who will speak regarding the matter to be brought before this summary trial?”
“I shall speak!”
Viscount Puterio stepped forward, acting quickly.
He had that detestable look of someone desperate to spin the narrative in his favor.
“…….”
Mrs. Mimosa seemed a step too late. The Marquess granted the floor to Viscount Puterio.
“Very well, speak.”
Viscount Puterio stood up with a smirk and began.
“Marquess, today’s case concerns a young slave named Sislein, who belonged to my ‘Perdes Slave Market’, and— *Achoo!*”
“……!”
At the sudden sneeze, Marquess Corel looked at the Viscount with eyes full of contempt, as if he were disgusted.
“What was that unhygienic sneeze just now, Viscount?”
Viscount Puterio wiped his mouth and offered an embarrassed smile.
“Oh, my apologies. I must have just sneezed. As I was saying, today’s… *Achoo!* My apologies, *achoo!*”
Marquess Corel shouted, clearly displeased.
“What on earth do you think you are doing in a sacred courtroom?!”
Just then, I stepped in, blinking my eyes with a look of grave concern.
“Could it be a symptom of a contagious disease?”
“……!”
“……!”
The atmosphere turned icy as if a bomb had gone off, and Marquess Corel’s face turned deathly pale.
The color drained completely from the Viscount’s face.
Watching the two of them, I laughed like a little devil inside.
‘The “Peach Munching” effect is working wonders.’
* * *
Three hours ago.
Viscount Puterio’s secretary had come to The Forest early to convey his superior’s tastes and preferences.
“The Viscount enjoys meat dishes very much. He is particularly fond of duck.”
“As it happens, the Marquess also mentioned he enjoys meat dishes. Then, roasted duck would be a wonderful choice!”
“You’re very sharp for your age.”
I answered clearly, with the bright, clever attitude of a model student.
“Thank you, Secretary!”
The secretary smiled, looking pleased.
“Oh, and by the way, are there any foods the Viscount cannot eat due to ‘allergies’?”
I asked, smiling back with a kind face. Usually, nobles in this country had avoided their allergens so strictly since childhood that they never had the chance to overcome them.
Therefore, it was very common for noble lords to have at least one allergy.
“I want to tell the chef to leave those ingredients out.”
“You are very thorough. Let’s see… Ah!”
The secretary stroked his chin, then raised a finger as if he had just remembered, explaining carefully.
“The Viscount is allergic to peach fuzz. However, he is fine with them if they are stewed or canned.”
A little later.
I gathered the children who would be making the food today and said,
“Sislein is a ‘Tree’ just like us. But he’s about to be dragged away as a slave. You don’t intend to just let that happen, do you?”
The friendships of children are deep.
I looked at the children, who were gazing at me with sparkling eyes, and said,
“Who wants to help my friend, Sislein?”
Caroline pursed her small lips with determination and said,
“If they’re Annette’s friend, they’re my friend too! I’ll help!”
Julian said, his large eyes twinkling.
“I wanna help my friend too.”
Shasha said,
“Sislein is really good at blowing bubbles! So we have to help him!”
…Well, that’s a strange reason, but thank you, Shasha.
The other children raised their hands one after another.
It seemed they felt closer to Sislein simply because they had all played in the water together.
It was a good thing.
“But how are we supposed to help?”
Shasha tilted her pink head, curious.
“It’s simple.”
I smiled and brought out a basket. It was piled high with sweet, fuzzy peaches I had taken from the food storage.
“Everyone, eat these peaches deliciously right now!”
“Wow, it’s yummy and easy!”
The children sat in a circle, holding the peaches with their small hands and eating them with a “yum-yum” sound.
And when the summary trial began, they fluttered their skirts—which were covered in peach fuzz—or shook hands with the Viscount.
It was nothing more than a cute greeting, but it was more than enough to catch the Viscount.
* * * "An epidemic, you say?"
Marquess Corel asked, as if he had been struck by a fit. I pretended to know nothing and explained with a calm expression.
"They say if you catch the Perdes plague, you start sneezing and coughing. Then, you develop a fever, and the skin all over your body begins to rot away..."
"……!!!"
Marquess Corel made a face as if his own skin were already rotting off.
Naturally, Viscount Puterio jumped up and denied it vehemently.
"Oh, good heavens, it’s not me! *Cough, cough!*"
He desperately covered his mouth, but the sneezing had already turned into a violent coughing fit. To make matters worse, tears and snot were streaming down his face.
I smiled faintly (at an angle only visible to Viscount Puterio) and said, feigning concern.
"But Viscount, your forehead is burning up like a furnace. I really should go fetch you some fever reducer."
Startled, Viscount Puterio shoved me aside and glared with wide eyes.
"It’s a complete lie! *Cough, cough.* This cunning wench is trying to frame me...!"
But the Marquess was already terrified beyond measure.
"Stop that filthy coughing at once! That is an order!"
"My Lord Marquess, please, feel my forehead! I don't have a fever at all!"
Just as the Viscount lunged toward the Marquess in a desperate attempt to prove his innocence—
*Smack!*
Struck by the Marquess’s thick palm, swung with all his might in utter disgust, the Viscount’s thin frame went tumbling to the floor in an unsightly heap.
"Ouch……!"
He had been hit so hard that his front tooth popped out like a piece of popcorn.
"Don't you dare come near me! Get away, back off!"
Marquess Corel contorted his face in revulsion, dragging his chair all the way to the wall to put distance between them. His ponytail trembled violently.
Viscount Puterio couldn't easily get back up and groaned on the floor, but no one moved to help him.
With his face flushed as red as an active volcano, the Marquess spoke urgently to Mrs. Mimosa.
"It would be best to proceed with the trial as quickly as possible. What was the case today, again?"
Mrs. Mimosa, showing no signs of being flustered by the sudden turn of events, replied.
"The Viscount is claiming ownership of a child from our Forest named Sislein. He claims the boy was originally a slave from the Perdes Slave Market, and that he lost the child due to negligence in his management."
As soon as he heard this, Marquess Corel’s expression twisted into a scowl.
"To claim ownership when you lost the child due to your own negligence—how shameless!"
"……!!!"
Viscount Puterio, who had naturally expected the Marquess to take his side, wore an expression as if a steel rod had just pierced through his entire body.
"My Lord Marquess……?"
His bloodied lips twisted into a pathetic grimace.
0 Comments